The Firm Page #4

He's down like that. Grabbed the big c*nt,

pulled him in, right...

C*nt got such a big shock.

'Old up, it's the 'ector.

Tickets, please.

Tickets for Portsmouth, please.

- He's got mine, mate.

- Sorry, pal. He's got mine.

- He's got mine.

- He's got mine.

- He's got mine.

- What you done with my ticket?

- None of you have got tickets, have you?

- No.

- And you don't intend to buy any, do you?

- No!

'Ere, mate. Might as well sit down,

have a drink with us. Come on.

Yeah, go on!

All right?

Oh, f*** it, why not?

Come on. What you standin' about for?

Early 'ere.

You remember any of this?

'Ere y'are.

This is where Pompey's boozer is.

l'm sure it's round 'ere somewhere.

- Trigger.

- What?

- Trigger!

- What?

Round 'ere, l think.

You ain't gonna find Pompey 'ere, Bex.

l wanna get something to eat.

Something to eat?

Where you gonna get that?

- l dunno. Wimpy or something.

- F***ing Wimpy? Are you sure?

Who's coming with me? Come on.

Ain't come here to eat, we've come here

to have it with f***ing Portsmouth.

What's the matter with ya? Come on.

Where the f*** are you going? Looking

for a boozer this time of the morning?

- Trig, what you talking about?

- Come this way.

- Where you going?

- We're going to get something to eat.

- What?

- Mustard, come on.

We're on the plot,

what are you worried about? Come on.

See you at the ground, all right?

- See you at the away end, Trig.

- Eh?

- Enjoy your hot dog, mate.

- Yeah? Enjoy your swim, Bex.

- Come on.

- Where's your beach?

- What we doing?

- We're going this way.

F*** knows.

Don't f***ing need Trigger and that old lot.

All they think about is their bellies.

You up for this, mate?

Bit of luck, it'll go right off.

Yeah, sweet, mate, l'm game.

'Ere, they're 'ere, Bex.

There's Pompey's boozer there, look.

- Hey, they're about 200-handed.

- Get up here. Don't start lagging behind.

Come on, Pompey!

- Come on, boys.

- No one start f***ing off.

- No one f*** off.

- Dom?

Get back! Get f***ing back!

There's f***ing loads of them there, mate.

F*** me, look at this!

Come on, then, l've been waiting for ya.

Go on.

Move back!

Oi! F***ing get out the way.

Come on, then! Come on!

Move back!

We turned the corner and l was going,

''Oi, there they are! Pompey!''

And l've seen that farmer, that little c*nt,

he's standing there in a yellow coat,

swear to God he's smilin' at me.

So l've gone, ''Come on, then!

You'll be all right. Hold this!''

- You get 'im?

- Yeah. Course.

D'you see him, little Dom?

He shaped up all right.

He was up front with me, took one and all.

He's a light, the kid.

l swear to God, Dad. She was about

She had me pinned to the feather, telling me

what she was gonna insert up my box.

- What? Are you sure?

- l had no choice.

l had to fight her.

- And she just punched you in the mouth?

- Basically.

Pass me the rest of that, fan pot.

You gotta do better than that

when your mother sees you.

All right, mate?

J told me l'd find you up here.

- How's it going?

- All right, Bex? What you up to?

Just passing through.

Enjoy yourself Saturday?

- Yeah, you wouldn't think so.

- Yeah, well.

Keep this weekend free.

We're at home to the mickeys.

Should be a good buzz.

ls the old man about? Wanted to see

if he fancied quoting on a job for me.

l'm his old man. What can l do for you, Mr...

- Bex.

- Mr Bex.

Nah. Nah, just Bex.

So what jobs

you want quoting on, then, Bex?

Well, my office just bought into

some of them new builds by the drink.

But the builders went skint and they've

gone through the slips with me readies.

Slips? What...what's slips?

That's just something we say, mate.

Anyway, fancy taking a look at them?

Course we will, Bex.

Who are we to turn down a bit of collar, eh?

Well, l don't wanna step on

no one's toes, do l?

Give him the address

and we'll fly down and have a look at 'em.

You'll have to excuse me,

l've got to crack on.

Yeah, ta-ta.

- l dunno what's wrong with him.

- Give him a puff, he'll be all right.

- Either that or get him a brass.

- Yeah.

Here you are, mizzog.

- Laters, Bex.

- Ta-ta, champ.

What's wrong with you? That's my pal.

l don't like him.

- l don't care. He's me right pal.

- l don't like him.

Have a look. lt's a f***ing Liquorice Allsort.

- You sure?

- What?

You look like f***ing John McEnroe.

- Where you been, anyway?

- Nowhere special.

Went football Saturday,

kicked off with Pompey, didn't it?

- Who'd you go there with?

- Bex and that lot.

Should have been there, Tel, it was naughty.

See my eye? Still bloodshot.

Took a dig off some big lump, didn't l?

Stayed on me feet, though.

Why didn't you tell me you was going?

l would have come.

They didn't ask for you, mate.

Only asked for me.

All right, Dom? Who's this lot?

All right, J? This is Terry.

Remember him from the pub?

- Yeah. All right?

- Tel's up for coming football, in't ya, Tel?

- Yeah?

- Yeah, he's a good 'ead.

Yeah, he looks it.

l gotta chip, Dom. See ya.

- Come on.

- We're goin' taxin' up the precinct.

Laters, Tel.

Look, l'll bell ya, yeah, mate?

Come on, Dom, let's chip. Come on.

- Have that for keeping dog.

- Straight?

F***ing log of wood, not even dancing!

You're lagging.

What do you reckon?

Don't look like a postbox, do l?

Nah, mate. You look the bollocks.

Well, don't look at me.

F***ing get on with it.

- l'm seeing how you do it.

- Seeing how you do it!

l'm learning, l'm learning.

You're always on about learning.

The Home Secretary, Leon Brittan,

said he could well understand the decision

to postpone travel arrangements

for England fans

heading for the European Championship.

He said that soccer hooliganism was

nothing more than outbursts of savagery...

So you fancy comin' Europe, do you, Dom?

Yeah. lf l can get the readies together.

Aww, ain't that sweet?

- Gotta get blooded first.

- Blooded?

You ever been tattooed?

- No.

- Virgin, eh?

Dominic. l'd like you to meet

a very old friend of mine, and yours.

Please put your hands together for...

Stanley!

Leave it out. You ain't gonna

do it with that, are ya?

You wanna run with the foxes, mate.

- Jesus.

- He won't help ya.

Come on, up you get.

Come on!

Well, go on, then.

Poisonous, that is.

lt gets into your bloodstream,

you could be dead by morning.

Yeah? How come

you lot are all still here, then?

Oh, mate!

- You f***ing little prick.

- What an ice cream, eh?

- Oh, Dom, what are you like?

- Quality.

Oh, mate!

Feet apart, keep the feet down.

Down you go.

Up with that curved spine.

- And again.

- What on earth are you two doing?

All the way down. Right, feet together.

Mad Lizzie workout.

Time to get in shape, son.

And he's on the Special K diet.

Anyway, where you going so early? You're

not normally out the feather till midday.

You're not even doing it properly, Mum.

Anyway, l'm going football.

- What, dressed like that?

- lt's called fashion, Dad.

Something you wouldn't know nothing about.

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